Just when you think summer’s over, a heat wave comes to L.A. and Waved Out 2 comes to the Echoplex, to hose us down with the reverb-soaked sounds of teenage noise pop, chill wave, surf punk and psych-folk. I didn’t know what to expect. The only bands listed on the bill whose names I recognized were the trippy headliners, the Entrance Band and Dungen, who were playing the first show of their US tour.  Sponsored in conjunction by the Aquarium Drunkard music blog, KXLU and L.A. RECORD, the all-day event featured an eclectic assortment of West Coast bands on two stages, a vegan tamale stand, DIY silkscreening station, and tarot card readings.

Kicking off the event, the Zig Zags played the loft at Origami Vinyl. Hailing from Oakland, California, the two piece won my heart with their lo-fi surf punk jams, reminiscent of the Wipers but with Beach Boys harmonies. The highlight of the Zig Zags set was what I think was a Big Star cover (“I was outta my mind…”) and an original tune they ended the set with “It’s What I’m Looking For,” a sludgy garage punk singalong. Zig Zags don’t seem to have any releases yet, but I hope they record some demos with their friend Greg Ashley soon, because I’m hooked!

Next up were Young Prisms at the Echoplex. The aptly-named San Francisco quintent plays loud, wall-of-sound shoegaze bathed in prisms of light. Stef’s haunting vocals blend perfectly with Matt and Jason’s layers of fuzzy, droned out guitar. Although I had them pegged them for 17, they are indeed very young (21-24) and sure enough, they met in high school. Now, why weren’t there any My Bloody Valentine fans at my highschool?

Summer Darling at The Echoplex; this taut, angular 4-piece plays angsty, post hardcore indie rock ala Hot Snakes, Clinic and Spoon. Not what I was in the mood for, but an energetic performance nonetheless.

In between beers, I hung out with Oliver, (the Young Prism’s bearded schnauzer), photographer extraordinaire Sarah Morrison snapped pics of the local kids we met, and I got an unbelievably spot-on tarot card reading by the lovely and talented Marcella. While the tarot cards clearly spelled out my destiny (romance and creative pursuits on track, whew!), she failed to tell me I was missing a great band. I ran up the stairs and back to the sweaty loft at Origami Vinyl just in time to catch the end of a short and sweet set by So Many Wizards!  Hailing from Long Beach and L.A., this 3-piece plays jangle pop heavy on the reverb. I definitely see more of So Many Wizards’ magic powers in your future!

Now Shannon & The Clams was the 1st performance of the evening that blew my mind.  Imagine the Ventures meets King Kahn & BBQ Show and you’re half way there. Fronted by a statuesque blonde who looks like she stepped out of a John Waters movie, the voluptuous female vocalist/bass player Shannon is the Anita Eckberg of cowpunk, commanding the stage with all the star presence of Dusty Springfield or Peggy Lee, but with the pipes of Wanda Jackson. Man can that girl sing! Sharp dressing and impish guitar player/male vocalist Cody is like a post modern Link Wray or John Doe, all elbows and knees, playing tawngy 60s seaside guitar riffs. Their set highlights include wild covers of Del Shannon’s “My Little Runaway” and Dion’s “The Wanderer” and catchy original garage punk numbers like “Hunk Hunt” that got the whole crowd rollicking.

I caught Hanni El Khatib, a two-piece consisting of guitar and drums of spirited post rockabilly garage in the tradition of Alan Vega and the Gun Club. Then, the very handsome John Carpenter took to the Origami stage, starting his set playing a solo set of folk ballads with hushed vocals reminiscent of Leonard Cohen, lulling his rapt audience with dreamy story songs. Carpenter dispensed with the acoustic vibe as his set went on, wailing on an electric guitar and screaming like The Yardbirds.

Hailing from Brooklyn by way of New Jersey, doe-eyed singer-songwriter Sharon Von Etten played pretty heartfelt songs with a breezy sincerity. Sharon has a beautiful, bird-like velvety voice and an easy rapport with her audience, consisting primarily of girls, many of whom sang along to her standout songs like “Sick of Trying,” an ode to her family, Sharon explained, “and dealing with my Pisces-ness. Is that a word?”  Uh oh, Lillith Fair, watch out! We have a contender!

Kicking off their tour with Dungen, The Entrance Band was in top form at the Echo, playing new material including “Masquerade” and “Spider.” Between Guy’s wild gesturing and Paz’s free-spirited hopping and barefoot strutting, The Entrance Band are one of the most highly original psych bands to come from L.A., evoking a whirling dervish take on 1960s rock, informed in equal measure by Eastern influences and Nuggets flashbacks.  Through heavy touring, The Entrance Band has definitely evolved and become a more sophisticated and tight unit. Paz has to be one of the most exciting bass players today—her body is her instrument—all legs, swaying brown hair, and hypnotic rhythms. Their set highlights included an inspired cover of Arthur Lee & Love’s  “A House is not a Motel” and “Temptation” on which Guy channeled Jason Pierce of Spaceman 3.

The Entrance Band Sarah Morrison

by Gather fanboys now for Dungen! Starting off their set with an oldie but a goodie, their breakout U.S. single “Festival”, the Swedish psych-folk/acid jazz pioneers whipped their bespectled fans into a frenzy.  Some of us even tried to sing along. Good luck! In broken English, frontman Gustav announced: “We will now play some new stuff—in Swedish!” You gotta love them Swedes! One can’t help but remark how perfect it would have been for Dungen to score a remake of The Wickerman. Dungen continues to release epic, sprawling records that deserve subtle contemplation, but I’m not sure if American audiences are ready yet to stand watching a 15 minute set of extended flute playing in a rock club. Unless you are really, really stoned. That said, Gustav’s virtuosity is remarkable, and his vocals in Swedish are unreal. Switching from flute to piano, with unusual song structures closest to free jazz, Dungen is the kind of band that would make Ornette Coleman proud.  Me on the other hand, I was all waved out.

—Zoë Bower

—Erik Ehlert

Singer Eddie Vedder voiced his displeasure with the first night crowd’s lack of energy.  “It’s clear to us you guys are already better than last night,” Vedder said after the fifth song of the set, “Dissident.”  Whether it was lead guitarist Mike McCready hopping up and down to bassist Jeff Ament’s wild leaps, you could really tell that the band was having a great time and feeding off the crowd.

The 2 hour and 10 minute set featured songs that ranged from their oldest (“Alive,” “Jeremy”) to newest (“The Fixer,” “Got Some”), the band’s carefully crafted set had a tight flow to it and never a dull moment. They definitely brought their ‘A’ game, sounding as crisp as they’ve ever been throughout their 19 year career.

It wouldn’t be a Pearl Jam show without hearing at least one cover.  Tonight’s featured the Ramones’ “I Believe in Miracles” (which was dedicated to longtime Vedder pal, Johnny Ramone), and the Police’s “Driven to Tears.”  Before they played the song, Vedder thanked the crowd for making the band look good in front of their heroes, namely John Doe of X and Mike Watt.

Longtime friend Ben Harper was the opener along with his new band, Relentless 7.  Harper later joined Pearl Jam on ‘Red Mosquito,’ adding a slide guitar, which made the song sound more complete and full.

After hearing the band live and armed with a new number one album at their disposal, Pearl Jam proves yet again why they are continuously one of the most popular draws in rock.  Vedder put it best when he said “There are laws in this state against things like gay marriage, but there isn’t a law in California that says you can’t lose your shit at a rock ‘n’ roll concert.”  On this night, he was correct.

—Daniel Kohn

Exene Cervenka helped invent what Los Angeles is now and helped save the best of what it used to be. She releases a new solo album Somewhere Gone on Bloodshot in October and is moving back to California after years in a historic farmhouse in Missouri. She speaks now while camping on the beach. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

How do you feel America’s garbage has changed in the last thirty or forty years?
Ooh—interesting. It’s changed for the worse. The garbage that I used to find on the streets was a lot better because it was regional garbage and now it’s just national garbage.
What specifically have we lost in our garbage?
Flyers for fortunetellers. Candy wrappers that only exist in certain places.
Do you agree with Philip K. Dick that the symbols of the divine show up initially at the trash stratum?
Sure—I think that’s neat.
Lydia Lunch once said that you and her share a similar moral imperative—to tell the truth about injustices to the individual and to scream into the void. Do you think that’s true?
I think that’s something more strident than I would see myself as being. I definitely feel like I’m not giving a voice to the voiceless—now I’m giving myself a voice. I don’t know what imperative means. I understand what it means but I also think that—I don’t know, ‘moral’ is a weird word. I like it. I like the word ‘morality’ but that is a weird concept. I just try to be a compassionate human being. I’m trying to make myself a better person as I go along.
How hard has that been to learn how to do?
Easy once you get the hang of it.
Do you think that’s necessary in music to have that?
Yes. Is it necessary to treat people okay? It is for me. Maybe not for you.
Maybe for me.
Maybe not for the next guy but for you or me, yeah.
You said once that most of your songs are written about love but that’s not to say they aren’t political. The Monks have said that all songs are love songs at heart—what’s the overlap there?
I’m just trying to take that in. Every song is a love song? Yeah, I’d agree with that. Because you love what you’re writing about.
They also said love is the only way to get out of your own ego and connect with something bigger than yourself.
Yes, I agree with that.
What’s a moment in your own life when that became apparent?
Now. Now in the more general sense. I agree with that completely. When I got diagnosed with MS—that is when it became apparent to me.
Did that diagnosis change the way you write and work?
It doesn’t change that, unfortunately. You’d think it would make you more… Well, I work pretty hard as it is so I’m not gonna work harder—but it doesn’t really change that stuff because why should it? At some point it’ll bite me in the ass but right now I’m healthy.
There’s a line by the poet Anna Akhmatova…
Oh, I love her—she’s my favorite poet. She’s great, especially considering she wrote that stuff in the teens and the twenties. Well, not all of it—but the stuff she wrote in the teens and the twenties is so relevant and so good.
In one poem she asks, ‘Why is this century worse than those others?’
I think everyone thinks their century is worse than the others. I think that question can be answered. We don’t know if it’s the worst, or if things will get worse. I believe things will get worse in our culture and our economy and in the world in general—I think water shortages and things like that. I mean we’re dealing with a bad economy, but other people are dealing with much worse and that’s gonna continue.
How do you think things have changed in your lifetime?
It’s kind of a big perspective now. I thank the hippies for health food every day—I’m grateful to them every day I eat and I think that generation changed the world for the better. They didn’t change it completely but I definitely have a lot of respect and gratitude to that generation. The generation previous to mine. And the feminists for doing what they could in their times to try and make women somewhat equal, which will probably never happen.
What makes you say that?
Because it’s so hard. I’ve struggled my whole life and so has every woman and decent man I know—it’s so hard.
How do you reconcile yourself to the possibility that these kinds of things are going to take longer than maybe any person can imagine?
That depends on if you’re doing the right thing or the wrong thing. If you’re doing the right thing then the outcome doesn’t really matter because your goal is to do the right thing, not to change the world.
Mike Watt says when he reads Ulysses now, it seems like a sad book to him—that it seems like the only victories we can have are the tiny victories between people.
No. I don’t agree with that. I think tiny victories are very valuable and personal relationships are very valuable but I think you can aspire to a lot more than that. I would not settle for that, no.
What do you still aspire to? I found a quote where you said you felt you’ve done everything you wanted to do in your life.
Do the same things again better.
How?
Well, that’s the question. That’s my problem, isn’t it?
What do you miss most about the past?
Architecture. The architecture in Los Angeles used to be quite amazing. Architecture everywhere in America used to be amazing—I miss that a lot.
Why do you think that changed?
Because of progress. Yes, that’s what they call it. Because of the economy. Because you have to keep stimulating the economy by tearing down and building again—and sprawl and fear. Los Angeles used to be a really amazing city in the ‘70s, but I miss all that. I wish men wore hats.
And never shorts, either. For decorum.
Yeah—for decorum’s sake.
Can you identify anything in your lifetime that was a tipping point? Where things went the left way and not the right way?
I have those all the time.
Can you identify them as they happen?
No. Immediately after. I’m pretty good at knowing what’s happening. The tipping point is a good thing because it makes you get up and do something about whatever it was that you couldn’t do anything about. It forces your hand.
You once said, ‘I want to be worthwhile in this world, I want to give something—otherwise that’d be selfish.’ Is that the way you feel you have to live?
Yes. Because that’s the way it is. That’s the way it works—because if you don’t do that then it doesn’t work. Society falls apart. Civility is lost. Which may be a good thing. But that’s just the way I choose to live. If somebody came to my door and wanted help, I would help them.
I heard runaways used to show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Well, let me put it this way—if someone needed help, I would help them.
What’s a time when somebody really helped you exactly when you needed it?
You’d be amazed. I have a list of the things since I was diagnosed—I am really, really grateful because I had so many people come to me with advice and help and prayers and thoughts and presents and things. So I think that when that happens, it transforms you.
How does it feel to be living in California again?
Not as strange as you’d think. I haven’t decided yet where I’m moving.
What’s your favorite scene in one of Raymond Chandler’s books?
Oh gee, I read those books so long ago. I can’t really remember. I should re-read those and I should read John Fante while I’m at it. Now that I’m back here I should reacquaint myself with where I am. John Fante—he’s my favorite L.A. writer. Because he just did it the best. I love Raymond Chandler too. And Charles Bukowski and other people. When I moved to L.A. in ’76 there were people just coming back from Vietnam who were hippies when they went that were dropping acid a week before they landed in Vietnam. They still had chops and acid and hippies—it was really neat. And there were still those detective doors in some of the office buildings—you know. The glass doors with the lettering. And the architecture was much more detective-y—much more Marlowe.
When you first moved here, who was the person who taught you about L.A.?
I didn’t have one. It was me and John Doe struggling to find our own way. Everything from the ground up. I came from Florida and he came from Baltimore and we didn’t know anything about California or Los Angeles—we were just trying to figure it out. We’d go to shows, he’d talk our way in—he’d talk the doorman into letting us get in for free to go see the Runaways and Tom Petty and Blondie.
You were talking about punk once and said, ‘We were ghosts then and we’re ghosts now and we’ll haunt your malls and catwalks forever.’
That’s definitely true. Because we thought of stuff that other people didn’t think of and it’s just now starting to disseminate into society—or has been for a while but is kind of starting.
Do you remember the first time you saw the Eagles play?
The Eagles? I saw the Eagles play in Las Vegas about 15 years ago. I was at the Hard Rock Café the night they opened. I wanted to see who they were because I heard so much about them.
Did they live up to everything you’d been told?
Exactly. Hit the nail on the head. They are good musicians—very competent at what they do, very good at what they do.
What a carefully chosen adjective.
Yup. They were very good at what they do.
You use ‘we’ really effectively in your lyrics.
I use ‘I’ too much. I think about myself too much.
Are there any of your songs that you feel have come true?
No. Sometimes they do. ‘New World’ is like that. That comes true every year.
How did you feel on election night last year?
Pretty darn good.
Did you cry at all?
No I didn’t. I had a nice celebration though—we played in Seattle and Eddie Vedder sang ‘The New World’ with us on election night. It was fun. And he slow danced with me.
Did he step on your toes?
No—he’s a great dancer. Are you kidding?
Who’s the best dancer?
John Doe.
Have you ever cried on an election night?
No. I don’t cry for those people. I save my tears for my friends.

EXENE CERVENKA WITH JOHN DOE, AMBER FOX AND DAVID J. CARPENTER ON FRI., SEPT. 11, AT A BENEFIT FOR ANDREA FOLMER AT ALEX’S BAR, 2913 E. ANAHEIM ST., LONG BEACH. 8PM / $10 / 21+. ALEXSBAR.COM. AND WITH JOHN DOE AND KID CONGO POWERS ON FRI., OCT. 9, AT THE ECHOPLEX, 1154 GLENDALE BLVD., LOS ANGELES. 8PM / $25-$27 / 18+. ATTHEECHO.COM. EXENE CERVENKA’S SOMEWHERE GONE RELEASES TUE., OCT. 6, ON BLOODSHOT. VIST EXENE CERVENKA AT EXENECERVENKA.COM OR AT MYSPACE.COM/EXENECERVENKA.

Shark Toys were followed by San Diego’s Christmas Island, whose brand of gangly sounding ode to rock-ism pays proper dues to its garage roots and admits a traditional California sound. The band’s guitar driven riffage transmorphs into a proper bit of mellowness, taking a robust sound and making it a deep groove. It’s lo-fi, but it’s not, in the sense that C.I.’s sounds tend to pre-date themselves without relying so much on effects but rather taking a more minimalist approach to song composition, such as on “I Don’t Care” and “Doin Swell.” I found myself dancing to the drums provided by drummer Lucy, who hits all the right toe-tapping beats. Her exploits occur while singer Brian’s vocal pattern takes you on a heartfelt journey through tone and force. That aspect followed by Craig’s blues-tinged guitar bits create an acute sense of wonderful joyousness, putting a smile on the face of every band member as well the audience. The beautiful bouts that make up the interludes create a perfect sounding music to skateboard down a pier with on an old school board—the clay wheels pop and drop below your feet on the sun-drenched wood.

—Gab Chabran

Stream: The Minutemen “History Lesson Part 2″

(from Double Nickels on the Dime available on SST)

The Minutemen’s Double Nickels On The Dime is one of the several weathered foundations of L.A. RECORD and one of the few albums still alive with the weird outside-inside energy of punk as it was once in California and the world. Exactly twenty-five years later, it still starts bands and makes friends. Minutemen bassist Mike Watt meets for pizza at San Pedro’s excellent Pavich’s Pizza for remembering D. Boon and George Hurley and that guy Mike Watt in the summer of 1984. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

You turned fifty in December and now Double Nickels is having its 25th anniversary.
I was 25 or 26 when I recorded this? Half of my life. The biggest thing about that guy Mike Watt in those days of 25-year-olds was really getting my mind blown by Ulysses. That was the big thing in my mind right then. It had a big impact on me. It made me wonder so much about the world. It’s funny how things come around. That record was a trippy time in the Minutemen’s life. In the punk era. Going back 25 years—it’s part of the past now! It’s a signifier in some ways—my life and other peoples’ lives. Like people knowing us and the punk movement—people who got the record, never saw us live. Keith and Tim did the We Jam Econo documentary. A lot of bands from the older times don’t have things done on them like that. They didn’t know a lot about the band—they knew from the record, but they wanted to find out about us. It became a thing unto itself—a touchstone. Not unto itself because it was obviously a scene—without a scene, there woulda been no Nickels, no Minutemen, no Econo. I don’t wanna get carried away—conceited! It’s just how it works out. We never thought we were a better band than anybody. We were happy as hell to be along with the team. We didn’t wanna be on top of the pile. I think every band had its own trip. There’s enough people to tell what’s right and wrong with music in books and shit. I don’t get into that. One good thing I like about it—is for D. Boon. A lot of times you get killed in your younger days, you get forgotten. I know the reason in my case—I liked him a lot and the fella could pay really good. For other cats to be aware of him—keeping the Minutemen in mind like that—in a weird way, his art is living. Some of his spirit is out there. For me, I owe him everything.
Where can you hear Boon the most on Nickels?
Maybe ‘Anxious Mofo’—that solo he does! Hardly any notes! It’s just great. And he does a great one in the instrumental—‘June 16.’ A lot of the words were influenced by Jim Joyce. The glory of man and all this. On ‘June ’16,’ Boon does a really good guitar solo, too. Hurley plays smoking drums on almost all of it. There’s a lot of dynamics with those two guys. Little tiny song settings. I’m trying to glue things together. I don’t do much bass solo on that record. I don’t think any.
Who drew the anchor on the label?
D. Boon. Punk records only had the writing on one side. With the way the lyrics are on the sleeve, we got the idea from Wire. Just put it out like prose instead of poetry.
Who wrote ‘Arena rock is new wave’ in the dead wax?
Joe Carducci came up with all those. I don’t know his commentary. [Looking at the photos in the gatefold] These pictures—this is Richard Meltzer, this is Joe Baiza. I just cut these pictures out. I had a posterboard. This is our first paid gig at Starwood. These two school buses—we rented these and played in them in Mojave on a dry lakebed. We had to wear sunglasses because the dust was blowing so hard. This is the Federal Building in west L.A.—I think it’s Rock Against Racism or Reagan. Maybe both. The camera people were taking pictures of a girl with a mohawk—they were way more into that than filming bands, so I’m turning it up. You can see how the scissors I used—pinking shears! I like these pictures. I don’t know—so casual. Boon’s got his fist up! And Georgie…
I know you did the record like Ummagumma—everyone got a solo song. ‘Cohesion,’ ‘Take 5, D’…
Georgie’s is ‘You Need The Glory.’ D. Boon never wrote a song with my words. I would write with his words all the time, but they weren’t words he wrote for me. They were little thoughts he put on paper and left around. That shit didn’t have rhymes—it was just thoughts, observations. He would use his words if he had rhymes—‘This Ain’t No Picnic.’ There were some misfires on this, I think. We did another version of ‘Little Man With A Gun In His Hand’—this came out such a lame version!
You said before you gotta spread a lot of manure to be a farmer.
Well, we wanted to match up to the Huskers because they had a double album. Kind of a challenge. I thought the band always did better when we were challenged. And it caught the band at a great time when Georgie was still writing us words.
At work, right?
He’d have to go in and work a lathe, so they’re kind of abstract. And the band had played enough that we could bring songs together really quick. Me and D. Boon were always quick because we grew up together but it always took time to show Georgie. We never wanted him in back—we wanted him just as involved. We’d spend a lot of time working out. This time, he could learn to feel it. He knew when he’d have a break or pause. The songs were coming real quick. The big problem was how were we gonna put 45 songs in order? We knew it was gonna be four sides. The way a record works, the needle works its way to the label. I kinda figured we’d have the shitty ones on the label and the good ones outside. How is this gonna happen? If we draw straws to find an order—first second third, pick one at a time. And good songs go first and lame ones get left, and the fourth side is nobody. I think Georgie got first pick and what’s he pick? His solo song! If you look at his side—all Hurley! I got second pick—I picked ‘Mike Jackson’ first, and Boon got third and picked ‘Anxious Mofo.’ Here’s a weird one—Hurley/Boon. Not a lot of Hurley/Boon. ‘Two Beads At The End,’ which we used to always crack up. It was always hard to know what Georgie was singing about. Private meanings. So we thought two butt beads hanging out—start you up like a lawnmower! I haven’t looked at this in a long time. D. Boon’s side is a lot of his stuff. And mine—a lot of Watt ones! Maybe we were picking songs from our own stuff—I thought I was picking for good! And it turns out the good ones are kinda on the outside. We didn’t want no favoritism. All divided even. A democratic thing. D. Boon would like that political idea.
How did ‘History Lesson’ end up on the label? That’s one of the very best songs.
Nobody wanted it! Second to last pick. D. Boon’s last pick was ‘One Reporter’s Opinion.’ Liked the guitar, a lotta guitar solo—hated the idea of my name in the song. I did that a lot. And ‘History Lesson’ had my name in it, too. The last two songs picked. The fourth side all unpicked. The Henry song, D. Boon’s ‘Song for Latin America,’ Martin the Reactionaries singer—no one wanted them!
Where did ‘History Lesson’ come from?
I wrote it and I kinda got the lick from Velvet Underground ‘Here She Comes Now.’ Mugger kept playing it over and over. I wrote it kind of for hardcore kids. Velvet music is kind of slow, but I thought everybody should be able to relate to playing with your buddy in a band. I guess some dudes real young think of being a rock star, but a lot of dudes start just to be with their friend. A lot of the idea—we didn’t seem like guys in a band. Kind of strange in a way. But personable! People could know us. They like a song where we talk about each other. A lot of times, D. Boon would be pulled off stage by bouncers thinking he was just some dude in the crowd! Me sometimes but D. Boon a lot—they just couldn’t believe he was in a band!
‘And Mr. Narrator, this is like Bob Dylan to me?’
We didn’t know what words were for in songs when we were boys. We thought it was like lead guitar. We didn’t know meanings and shit. But Dylan seemed like a weird uncle at Thanksgiving, muttering and no one paying attention but here’s these weird kind of words. When we were making music as boys, we never thought of music as being expression. Used to get feelings. We thought it was to copy records. Never had the idea you try to get your own thoughts out! As we got older, it seemed maybe Dylan wasn’t so afraid. And if he wasn’t, maybe we shouldn’t be scared. It was kind of confidence for us. The narrator—like a voice in a movie explaining things. That’s who he was in our life. We were learning by doing. Now cats write tunes all the time! I gave a talk to my sister’s 6th grade—these kids, they’re in bands! Last year I did one here for 3rd graders—nine-year-olds!—and some girls had bands! But it was different in those days—you didn’t do it. Not like lemmings or sheep—though people are like lemmings a little bit. The best guy in town was the guy who could play ‘Black Dog’ the best. It was building models—‘Hey, kind of like the real thing.’ We don’t think soapbox derby—where you can roll around in the thing. Roll, not just look! So Dylan kind of helped us. We didn’t know what his words meant but we knew they meant something. Now we’re gonna write songs—what are words for? By Double Nickels, I’d been doing—I’d written my first ones—terrible ones—in the Reactionaries. That’s thirty years—1979! I made two cassettes. Ten songs. None made it to Minutemen. One I gave to Brendan Mullen—the only time I tried to get a gig. But by Double Nickels, I’d already written like 50 or 60 Minutemen songs. I was kinda havin’ fun. I’d write words sometimes just to hear D. Boon say them. In ‘It’s Expected I’m Gone’—let’s have D. Boon say ‘big fucking shit!’ right now! I just wanted to hear him say ‘big fucking shit!’ really loud like he did! Nothing to do with the song. Something to do with the James Joyce book.
‘I must look like a dork?’
No—I wanted Michael Jackson. If Michael Jackson sang our song, a lot of people would get the message of Minutemen. He had a big audience. A good singer. I sent him a cassette of it—to the management on the record cover. I wrote him a note. ‘This is a political song I think Michael Jackson should sing.’ I never got written back. ‘I must look like a dork’ I got from an interview with Iggy in Creem. They’d have spiel with questions and answers and they’d bold out a quote—‘I MUST LOOK LIKE A DORK.’ That magazine was very cool. Not like Rolling Stone and shit—good sense of humor. So I just lifted from Iggy. I thought Iggy was a balls-out dude—the Stooges a balls-out band. To be in that legacy—be part of a movement inspired by that band—so what if you look like a fucking dork! You tell people you are and you still go for it.
Is Double Nickels your Ulysses?
I try to be black-and-white about what Minutemen were trying to do with political songs. ‘Organizing the Boy Scouts for murder is wrong!’ It wasn’t supposed to be satire. We’re an anti-war band! A working people band! Kind of a weird-kind-of-people band! Dudes who didn’t fit in so much. To us, the message of our band and a little bit of punk, too—start your own band! Say what’s on your mind! Sometimes it was scary—there were skinhead bands and shit who were terribly enthusiastic in their message. But that’s the way the scene was. No rules. People went for it. I talk about Minutemen in two songs on that album—the one I actually mailed to Michael Jackson and ‘Politics of Time.’ I didn’t really sing about the band in ‘History Lesson’—because it was Hurley, too. On Punchline, the song ‘History Lesson’ is very hard-hitting. The story of most human civilization is killing each other. And I thought maybe there might be a part two—we don’t have to kill each other? So I’m gonna take it relaxed—talk about heroes like Richard Hell, Joe Strummer, John Doe. Those are my three songs that ain’t about Ulysses. About the band and my friend. Georgie’s? I don’t know what his are about—a working guy writing them at work. Boon—his tunes are usually about his beliefs. The outside writers—we never asked ‘em. It wasn’t important to us. It might have been like censorship. Just 100% used their words. And some of them were pretty cryptic. Like Dirk’s ‘The Roar Of The Masses Could Be Farts.’ And Jack Brewer’s cousin Joe—we didn’t even know the guy!—writes a weird one—‘Please Don’t Be Gentle With Me.’ I don’t know what the fuck—that’s a love song?
How many love songs are on Double Nickels?
‘Just wake me up and tug my hair!’ We took these at face value—we didn’t care! We made songs! A love song I got from Ulysses—‘My Heart In The Real World.’ Ulysses was bent a lot on language, so it was actually about language, but it has love song imagery. And war imagery. ‘Do You Want New Wave’ is about language too. ‘The World According To Nouns.’ All inspired by James Joyce’s Ulysses.
Have you re-read Ulysses?
I did in my forties. It seems a lot sadder book. Those days, when I wrote songs from that book, it was a big celebration! The glory of man! Now it’s more like—the glory hole of man! It seems like I could hear Joyce’s voice stronger. It seems like a lot of sadness with his mother and just the general condition of humans sometimes. So much failure. The only victories are tiny things between people in everyday stuff. The big joy is in the small middle things, because the big things are all fucking nightmare. ‘One Reporter’s Opinion’ seems like love, but it’s not. What struck me as trippy about Joyce was the technique in Ulysses changing the style with each episode—very scientific, dry, baby talk, opera, all these different trips. A lot of our shit was so… inside. It never got out to people. But it was very clear to us. Like the title. And the meaning of our lyrics. During this time, Boon worked in the van pool—one time the police were called on him—they said there was an insane man attacking the weeds! He was just a utility guy using the weed-whacker! But he had a mohawk! ‘The guy’s attacking the building!’ He’d write stuff while working and driving on little papers—this is what he would write and why there are no rhymes in them. And I’d find ‘em and make songs.
Did you ever talk to him about that?
No—I’d wonder if he would leave ‘em for me! I’d just find these things. Find ‘em in the van, in the car, all over the place. Just thinking about stuff.
How do you feel when you listen to Double Nickels now?
I didn’t listen for a long time. I listened around We Jam Econo. It was amazing! George said the same thing—‘How could I play that shit?’ It holds up, I think, for the most part. It doesn’t sound like, ‘Here’s my lame young days.’ It sounds like maybe the best thing about it!
Why?
I don’t know! Just listen! Goddamn! The way we played together—the way we were in our history. A lot of things happening at the right time. The way we were with other peoples’ lyrics and our own. We didn’t try to refine it or water it down. We just grabbed it by the bull horns and went for it, and the spirit shows through! It doesn’t sound forced—doesn’t sound fake. It’s very un-self-conscious. We did it without thinking—we wanted one because the Huskers had one! ‘We should, too!’ We just let it be it—we never thought in bigger terms. Now look—if you wanna know what was good about Minutemen, a lot of it’s in that record. We didn’t know at the time. But you ask perspective—like when I re-read Ulysses—that’s what I see. When I read it, I heard a different voice. The words were the same but I had changed. And maybe I identify more with the man. It seemed sadder. A lot of books from my 20s I’m re-reading seem a lot sadder. Kerouac—On The Road—very sad! These days it’s not a total ‘Yeah! Yeah, go for it!’ celebration firecracker. Dean Moriarty leaves him in the hospital with dysentery—that’s lame! It’s beat like ‘beat down.’ Minutemen—that is a young man’s record. And the spirit of young men is in that. It’s like—‘Wow, we got a chance to make a record! A chance to play together! To play a gig with Flag and Huskers! A chance to write music to Jack Brewer’s cousin Joe’s song about whatever the fuck tug my hair in the morning!’ We were just fucking lit about everything—all lit! Sometimes a young person is like that because they don’t have the worries of an older thing or a bad experience to keep them all wallowing or too safe. It has that spirit in it. And I can identify it because I was there. And I think about George and Boon and myself—man! That more than probably any other—we were all there with everything we had! More than any other of the Minutemen records. Buzz or Howl was actually two different things. I don’t think any Georgie songs are on it. One side Spot, one Ethan. No Georgie songs on 3 Way Tie or Project Mersh. What Makes A Man Start Fires, I had to write all the music—the only time D. Boon didn’t live in Pedro. Paranoid Time, Georgie wasn’t there with the songs. He came in later. Punchline was kind of Double Nickels. A little bit. An early version. Built on almost the same template except one or two outside writers. When we had the one album, most of the outside writers came on the second album of Double Nickels. The first was almost Punchline part 2—it actually was! And Punchline—goddamn! We make that—in the first year—December of ’80! Before we’d even been a year old. It’s not like Nickels—that’s why it holds up. It’s our signature. If you wanna know about the band and you only hear one record—that’s the one.

THE MINUTEMEN’S DOUBLE NICKELS ON THE DIME IS AVAILABLE FROM SST. VISIT MIKE WATT AT HOOTPAGE.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/WATTFROMPEDRO.

Stream: The Sadies “Stop The World And Let Me Off” (with John Doe)

(from Country Club out now on Yep Roc)

The Sadies are Canada’s magnificent responding echo to California country and just finished a set of shows with Black Mountain. Their new album (featuring John Doe, one in a long line of Sadies collaborators also including Andre Williams, Robyn Hitchcock and Jon Langford) is out now on Yep Roc and drummer Mike Belitsky speaks now before the van goes tearing away southward. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

Why do people call you ‘Snake’?
Mike Belitsky (drums): It’s kind of really not as tough as it sounds. I don’t know if you ever saw that movie Escape From New York—Snake Plissken is in that movie and I moved to Toronto from New York and the Sadies’ road manager was like, “What’s his last name—Plissken?” Because my name is Belitsky—he’s like, “Plissken from New York? Snake Plissken!” So they started calling me ‘Snake.’
I’m glad it didn’t have anything to do with human anatomy.
No. Well, I mean—that’s a story for another magazine.
Do you still have the same ‘64 Ludwig kit that you used to sleep inside the kick drum?
I do still have it. I practice on it and I keep it in my basement now.
What kind of dreams did you have when you were inside? Was it like a return to the womb?
Pretty much. I think I did it mostly because I was so psyched. It was a bit of a Christmas morning kind of thing—I didn’t get ‘em for Christmas but it was like that to wake up and be so excited that I had something new and I wouldn’t even have to go downstairs. They were just right there—my head was inside of them.
From ‘Snake’ to ‘sweet’ in like two seconds. How many times have you thrown up on your own drum set?
Once. Have you heard about this? Is that why you’re asking? It was some food poisoning, I was feeling really sick and it was opening up for Whiskey Town when we played as Neko Case’s band. They were psyched. It was my kit, not his, and I was just thinking, ‘If I can just get through this set, I can go back to the hotel and crash out.’ But I couldn’t make it to the end of the set. I counted in the first song and right on the one I threw up.
But you came in on the one?
I still came in on the one—I just came in with some extra vomit.
Have you ever broken two laws at one time?
I have and I got arrested for it.
Did they charge you for both of them or did they give you a break?
No, just one of them. That’s the problem—if you do two you’re going to get caught for doing one of them. Stick to one and you’re doing alright.
What is the most number of laws you broke at one time?
You know, probably no more than three at once—but none of them were anything crazy. Like breaking and entering or drinking underage, that’s the worst I ever did—and the breaking and entering was in an empty warehouse. I mean, you have to drink somewhere when you’re 16.
You’re really growing into the ‘Snake’ nickname as the interview progresses.
Hey, man, you’re bringing out the badass in me—asking me about my criminal record.
Have you ever visited the Sudbury Nickel in person?
I have. It’s big. It’s like five stories high. It was funny because I drove through there a bunch of times before I ever saw it so I was kind of excited. Humbling? No, not so much but definitely a bit of a closure of a chapter. I’ve always wanted to see it and I saw it so now I can move on. I can move on to giant dinosaurs in the Midwest.
What’s the next landmark you’ve got to cross off on the list?
I kind of want to see the Chrysler building in New York. I also want to go to Madison Square Garden. I saw the Stray Cats there but I don’t remember it. It was just really dark. I want to go to a sporting event there.
Hockey, by chance?
Yeah, I’d love to go see hockey there.
I found a quote by [guitarist] Travis [Good] where he says during all the lifetime of the band you guys have just kept speeding up. Is that true? How does that weigh on you since you have to be the guy to put the speed in it?
It’s kind of true. I’m conscious of it—I remember shortly after I’d moved to Toronto to join the band, I realized how fast and good of guitar players those two guys were and at the same time I had injured my wrist—so in order to get through rehabbing, it made me focus on rudiments and by focusing on rudiments I was able to increase the speed at which I was able to play. I was very conscious of not wanting to be the reason why we were playing the songs slower.
What are you guys playing in the set right now? Everything?
We do a pretty wide variety of our recorded repertoire. I don’t think there’s any record that we don’t do at least one or two songs from. Naturally it’s a little bit more leaning towards our newer releases but there are some staples that haven’t ever gone away. There’s stuff for everyone. There’s been a pretty big style change from record one to now and if you like one kind you wont be left in the woods not hearing that type of music.
If anybody shouts out for Pink Floyd are you going to play it?
Maybe. We do a couple of numbers by them. We do ‘Astronomy Domine’ and ‘Lucifer Sam,’ but yeah—we love that Piper At the Gates of Dawn record.
Of all the folks—like John Doe, Jon Langford, and Robyn Hitchcock—who have crossed paths with you, what sort of wisdom have they passed along?
I don’t think anything like word-wise, but the one thing that I find to be the most recurring quality in all those people is that they are really on the level. And if it’s not going how they want, they will speak their mind and not try to pull a fast one on anybody.
So what’s the lesson there? ‘Don’t fuck around’?
Yeah, that’s pretty good. You know—just be really upfront with people whether it’s about business or music. Unfortunately it’s a music business and that can be alienating to people in partnerships and it’s really important to be upfront and on the level about not only making the music but also the other side of it, too.
Is it true you guys all have your own separate iPods in the van?
We don’t really do a communal listen—we tend to keep it kind of individual. Every now and then somebody will hook their iPod up to the main stereo and share. The bands that we probably agree on are the Ramones, AC/DC, the Byrds, Love, Johnny Cash. Then there’s stuff I like that nobody wants to hear. I really like that AM ‘70s pop. Yacht rock seems more like Kenny Loggins and Messina and shit like that. I never really liked that too much. I’m more kind of like Poco-y stuff.
What is your most beloved California record?
I really like Forever Changes by Love—I think that was probably recorded in California. Dallas turned me on to that record and I really like it a lot. I don’t know if it’s my all time favorite, but that’s the one I’m listening to the most from California.
If you only have five minutes to make a good impression on Andre Williams, what’s a good way to get him going?
He really likes talking about women, for sure.
Any specific aspect of femininity?
I think he doesn’t discern. He likes all parts and anything that is woman. But he’s a great guy—I really love the guy. From the time that I spent with him there is not a day that goes by where somehow I don’t reference him or something he said.
What is the latest that you’ve ever stayed up with him?
All night. We were on a tour bus together, so that sometimes just happens. You get on a schedule where you’re working at night and you wind down after the show and everybody is just there. We had some great all-night bull sessions and he’s a great guy.
What’s it like to watch the sunrise with Andre Williams?
It’s incredible. I loved it. He’s really, really special. I think it might even be on videotape somewhere too. And it was in Sweden to top it all off, so that’s pretty neat.
How much of your wardrobe has rhinestones on it?
I don’t think anything, me personally. I’ve got some fancy snaps though—they kind of look like jelly beans.

THE SADIES ON TUE., MAY 26, AT SPACELAND, 1717 SILVERLAKE BLVD., SILVERLAKE. 8:30PM / $10-$12 / 21+. CLUBSPACELAND.COM. THE SADIES’ COUNTRY CLUB (WITH JOHN DOE) IS OUT NOW ON YEP ROC. VISIT THE SADIES AT THESADIES.NET OR MYSPACE.COM/THESADIES.